Taste of Ash
by Seito
Summary: He remembered it because it was important not to forget. Remembered until he did forget. When he forgot, he went ahead and did the one thing he said never to do.


**Midnightluck** said: but like, he smokes. Because he forgot and when he's forgotten, he thinks smoking looks cool enough to pick it up it's sad

And suddenly I had a remix on my hands. lmao.

This is a remix of **Cigarette Burns**

* * *

Careful fingers looped the black tie in place, shoes shined and belt buckle gleaming. Awareness tingled in the back his mind, bursting and fading all at once. A white smiley face Mask stared back at him, reflected in the floor length mirror. He reached for his fedora, placing it on his head with practiced ease.

The sign in the dressing room was clear, one must be clean and well dressed at all times. Easy enough. He did look rather cool.

...Why was that important?

The taste of ash lingered in his mouth. He blinked, not quite sure where it came from. A look around unrevealed a box of cigarette and a lighter. Without a second thought he grabbed it, pocketing before grabbing his rifle.

Smoking did have a cool vibe.

-.-.-.-

Eventually the taste of ash and the craving of nicotine became familiar. It was a sense of awareness, like a memory, only he hadn't notice it.

It lingered on the tip of his tongue. An itch he had to scratch. It was important, the taste of ash.

But why?

-.-.-.-

He let the water wash over him, cleaning away the blood. Another day, another group of humans killed. He blinked slightly, wondering why it was important to do that before it faded into the back of his mind.

Grabbing the towel and a bar of soap, he suded it up. Long even swipes, meticulously cleaning every inch of skin. He stopped as he approached his stomach, noticing three round scars and wondered where he had gotten them from.

The taste of ash burst in his mouth and he put the thought aside for now. The faster he finished showering, the faster he could light a cigarette.

-.-.-.-

A name.

He had a name. Makoto Yu. Was it real? Maybe. Honjo Rika was the only one who could confirm. But a name and more memories, uncovering each one bit by bit. Who was he originally?

What laid beyond the Sniper Mask?

How much of who he was now was still him? How much had he forgotten?

The taste of ash and craving for a cigarette curled in mouth. He hasty grabbed one, lighting up and inhaling the smoke in deep breath.

This time disgust curled in his stomach and he couldn't understand why.

-.-.-.-

When the truth came out, when Rika lifted the veil, all he could taste in his mouth was ash. It was important, the taste of ash. It was important to remember, to never forget, except he _**did**_ forget and now the one thing he had sworn to never do, he had been unknowingly doing it.

Disgust curled in his stomach, under the onslaught of memories of that personal piece of hell. The taste of ash, of that cursed breath so close it was all he could do was breath in that same filth. The sharp and foul taste, rotting and nasty all at once.

How could he have forgotten?

What else had this cursed Mask robbed from him?

-.-.-.-

This time when the taste of ash and the craving of nicotine tainted his mouth, bile rose with it. He barely made it to the bathroom to throw up. Phantom pains racking his body and chills running down his spine. The smell of burnt flesh, the three tiny scars throbbing, a reminder.

"Yu-chan."

He turned, face dripping wet. Rika stood behind him, hand half reached out in an aborted attempt to comfort him, but not wanting to actually touch.

Sniper, Yu, -which one was he these days- was glad Rika hadn't tried, unsure of how he would have taken someone's touch at this point.

Rika pulled back his hand, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have told you."

He shook his head. "I wanted to know," he rasped, gripping tight to the counter. It was truth. He wanted to remember, wanted to know.

Rika made a low pitched noise. "It's distressing you," he said, pity and concern mixing.

Muscles tense as shame replaced the disgust tightening into a knot in his stomach. How pitiful, how weak.

"You're not weak," Rika interjected.

How could Rika read him so well?

Hesitating, Rika extended his hand once more. "If you're having trouble remembering, I'll tell you everything."

Good and bad. The only way forward was to remember both the good and bad. He reached out and grabbing Rika's hand. "I place myself in your care," he said, lips twisting into a wry smile. The faint memory of doing this before floating to the top. Rika had always been a bright spot in his life. That much he knew.

Rika smiled. "I got you, Yu-chan."

* * *

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